Thanks For Dinner
by 1johnny-depp-lover3
Summary: Sherlock has been "dead" for a year. He can't turn to John at this time, but there is a woman who's in a similar situation... IreneXSherlock Oneshot.


**Sherlock is my current obsession. I love Benedict Cumberbatch. His Voice is sex. He is sex unnfff. I love Martin Freeman he is an awesome Watson. I love Andrew Scott. God he makes Moriarty sexy when I didn't even think that was possible. I love Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss for creating such a beautiful thing.  
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**Alrighty now that my rant of Sherlock Appreciation is over I have made this because there's a fuckin' hurricane coming my way and it's rainy as hell, it's been raining for the past like 2 days and it's not gonna stop all week, so i pretty much have nothing better to do than create sexy Sherlock stories... and lets face it. Sherlock is sexy, Irene is sexy ... this is just a match made in heaven and I ship them so hard you have no idea uuugghghghghghg!**

**Enjoy!**

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The night air had a chilling bite to it, and Irene was forced to wrap her dark black scarf around her neck tighter. She couldn't help but think that this was ridiculous, running off without a moment's notice when _he_ calls. She smirked to herself despite the ill thoughts. They both knew she was virtually powerless, especially when the message was as clever and unique as it was. But what should she expect? He never would text her back, always made her wait until they were together before he would even acknowledge her existence at all.

She shook herself clear of unwanted thoughts. Things were so different now…

Irene Adler turned into a darkened alleyway until she reached a rusted door and knocked four times before speaking. "Are you ready of dinner?"

"Come in…" A voice replied calmly, almost bored. Irene smiled with amusement. It seemed as if nothing but an exhilarating case was able to give this man a thrill. She reached for the door knob and was glad for her gloved hands when she noticed the grime that covered it.

She found herself in a dimly candle lit room that casted shadows all over the dusty walls. No furniture stood on the dark hardwood floors save a small blow up mattress in a corner that was barely visible. "I didn't actually bring any food you know…" She commented when she noticed the lack of … practically everything in the small room.

"I don't eat when thinking … slows me down."

"Of course it does." She closed the door behind her and turned to face the room again.

He was sitting in the center of the room; His eyes closed and his hands placed together in front of his face. His fingers were tapping madly away against each other; his signature look when something was deeply on his mind.

She sat down in front of him, feeling the coolness of the floor through her clothing. He sat there like that, not making a sound for several minutes and Irene got the chance to look at him properly. Nothing had changed about him. He looked exactly the same, but within a few minutes she could tell that his hair had grown slightly longer than normal. She moved closer and caressed his check with her gloved hand. A small, annoyed twitch of the face was all that he illustrated. It was like she wasn't even there; like he didn't want her there despite the message he'd sent.

"Did my pupils dilate when I saw you Mr. Holmes?"

"My eyes have been closed Irene." She smiled, the first recognition (besides the unintentional twitch) that she was sitting in the same room as him.

"I knew you weren't dead," she blurted. He smirked and didn't reply. She removed her hand from his cheek and could have sworn that a look of sorrow passed over his face for a split second. "I enjoyed the message you sent; a dinner platter. How … clever."

He chuckled slightly and replied, "I thought you would."

"Why me though Holmes? … Why not John?"

He opened his eyes to look at her. "Because I knew you'd keep my secret. I kept yours once; it's time you repay the favor."

"Why now?"

"Because…" He fumbled with the right words; something that hardly ever happened.

"You missed me."

He averted his gaze and replied, "Your pupils have dilated by the way." She smiled and turned away from him bashfully.

"Sherlock, is this what you calling 'thinking' now?" Irene demanded when she noticed a needle sitting next to him.

"Irene, I've been dead for about a year now and I've been moving from dingy room to dingy room. What do you expect me to do?"

"You could have contacted me sooner."

Sherlock didn't answer. He just stared straight ahead.

"I've missed you too you know; ever since your little rescue mission with the terrorists…" She grabbed his arm and rolled up the sleeve so that she could look at his pale skin. He looked at her quizzically as she lightly traced the pink marks where the drug needle pierced his skin. "How hooked are you Sherlock?" He removed his arm from her light grasp and moved to confiscate the hair pins that kept her hair in a tight bun. Her hair fell around her in ringlets.

"I always liked your hair down." He moved to cup her face and press his lips to hers gently.

"You're killing yourself Sherlock." She said, inches away from his face.

He smirked. "Now how ironic is that?"

She kissed him this time. Making it slow and sweet. His body was shaking. "Sherlock…?" She began when she broke away from him but he didn't give her chance to finish. He kissed her again. Harder this time. She was caught off guard but chuckled into his lips. "Who taught you how to kiss like that? John perhaps?" He started to move away, annoyed as usual but she didn't let him go. "I didn't mean to offend" She said smiling and kissed him again.

"Irene…" He said breathlessly

"Yes?" He never answered, just grabbed her hands and slowly took off her black gloves. He took her small delicate hand and moved it to his cheek were she caressed him softly. "Let's dance."

"Why would we dance if there's no music?" She felt the tickle of his breath against her wrist and felt her heart flutter at the same moment.

"Why would we not?"

She stood up and held out a hand for him while he folded his hands, annoyed, and placed them under his chin. "Irene I've been dead …"

"And so have I!" The room fell silent. "Now get up and dance with me." She wiggled her fingers impatiently while he rolled his eyes and took her hand to steady himself as he rose. "You hardly ever stand up anymore do you?" She commented as he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her slender figure. She held onto him as they twirled aimlessly in a circle. She felt his stomach and trailed her hands until she laid them to rest on his chest. She noticed that he was thinner, now that she could feel him against her. But when she traced the point of his shoulder to his wrist she couldn't help but smile at the touch of his muscles.

"You're enjoying yourself too much." He commented. She hadn't noticed that they had stopped twirling and were standing there as she trailed the outline of his body.

"Not nearly enough dear." She replied and looked up at him before pressing herself even closer. "I'm starving darling. And we never did have dinner…" She let her sentence hang in the air.

Sherlock smirked, "And what if I said I'm not hungry…?"

"I wouldn't believe you." She pressed her lips to his and he welcomed it by pressing his hand to the back of her head. She removed her scarf and coat and let the night air nip at her skin. Sherlock moved his hand to the spaghetti strap of her dress and slipped it off her shoulder. She shivered, but not from the cold. She moved to unbutton his long sleeved shirt and he removed it swiftly. Heat was radiating off him yet he was shaking uncontrollably. "Sherlock are you alri…" She was interrupted with a gasp when Sherlock slammed her against one of the filthy walls. She moaned slightly when his mouth came down on hers but she broke free to say, "You really should get better living conditions Mr. Holmes."

"Shut up," He replied breathlessly and smashed his mouth on hers again. He hoisted her up on his hips and she was forced to wrap her legs around him for support. Her breathing was heavy and mingled with his.

"I'd rather not do this on the wall Mr. Holmes…" He lifted her up and moved her to the corner of the room where the small blow up mattress sat. He set her down and kissed her cheek gently before trailing his lips down to hers. She opened her mouth slightly, welcoming the heat that grew between them. Sherlock however, had started to shake again. "Sherlock, if you can't…"

"I need this Irene," He answered. She was taken aback at how serious he was. He didn't hesitate and just kept staring at her with those beautiful blue-green eyes of his. She pressed herself against him and kissed his lips. She threw her arm around his back just as he did the same with her and they pulled each other down onto the spongy mattress. He found the zipper to her black dress and slowly pulled it down while she undid the button of his trousers. She shimmied out of her tight dress to reveal the underwear which lie beneath. She removed the under-garments and laid there while he gently caressed every inch of her body.

"You're a lucky man, Mr. Holmes." She purred as his hand traced over her thigh. "Not many people get to see me like this twice." He shook his head in agreement, an unintentional response that was only caused by the high of being close together. He pressed his check to her inner thigh and kissed the soft flesh, causing her to sigh in delight. His hand moved to the curve of her hips where he traced a random pattern onto her skin. It burned with delight when he touched her. She was no longer cold, she found, as his lips kissed her bare stomach.

She moved her hands back down to his trousers and finished the job she'd started before by removing them all together. He looked at her with hunger in his eyes; like he did when he was on a case. She recalled seeing that same look when they were in her mansion and the Americans were attacking them.

His hands were still set gently on her hips, but he soon let the hunger take over and grabbed onto them with the force he delivers when in combat. She arched her back when he entered, and moaned as the feeling of pure adoration climbed within her stomach.

She found that he was a gentle lover; something that surprised her by the forcefulness of his touch initially. His hips bucked back and forth at a steady rhythm and she clawed at his back; crying for more without making a sound.

Sweat trickled off his brow and she kissed his lips while he closed his eyes and made a primal sound at the back of his throat. He broke free and pushed their foreheads together as he bucked his hips again and again.

She gasped and squeaked under his touch. "Mr. Holmes…" She sighed and kissed his pale neck. He grunted in the back of his throat again and drove into her faster. She sat up so that she could move her hips with his. He closed his eyes again at the pleasure and Irene maneuvered so that she was sitting in his lap, still bucking her hips. She took his face in her hands and let her long dark hair drape over them like a shield while she kissed his lips.

She could tell he was nearing his end as she pushed him onto his back. His face was contorted and he trailed her bare back with a shaky hand. It still caused her to shiver with excitement and she pushed herself further. Her vision was tinted with white and she had to shut her eyes tight when she felt a familiar sensation on the top of her thighs.

They climaxed together, both groaning in each other's ears. "Oh, Mr. Holmes." She stated breathlessly as she pressed their foreheads together.

He took a big gulp of air before replying in a strained voice. "Yes, Ms. Adler?"

"You've got red lipstick all over your face." He chuckled and moved his hand to the back of her head before kissing her again.

"You'll be ok here now?" She asked once the two had finished assembling themselves back together.

"Of course I will, I've been here for a year. What's changed now?" She felt a pang of hurt inside her chest but dismissed it. This was how Sherlock was. He never wanted to admit his feelings for anybody or anything. He didn't even want to admit he had feelings at all.

The heat from their moments together had vanished from the room, leaving it icy and cold. Sherlock began to roll up his sleeve despite the chill and reached down for the needle that was left in the exact spot it had been before. Irene, however, was able to grab the wretched thing before Sherlock could. "I'll just be taking this with me." She answered his unspoken question and placed the object in her pocket.

"It won't be hard to acquire another." Sherlock stated. Irene ignored the blow and moved towards the door. She had just turned the knob when Sherlock said, "Irene…" She didn't answer but turned around to face him. He smiled and said, "Thanks for dinner."

She smiled back despite herself and replied, "Maybe next time I'll actually bring food." She turned away from her lover, opened the door and exited without another word.

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**Don't hesitate to give me some creative criticism. If there's anything that needs to be changed to the story (Grammar wise etc.) Just let me know! :D**


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